


27th May

by Emma_Oz



Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Oz/pseuds/Emma_Oz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Under bombs and guns, men are carried across the Channel, not only by troop-ships, but by private yachts, river tugs, harbour life-boats and coastal pleasure steamers – the ‘Saucy Sallies’ of the summer season. The rescuers are not wholly male. ‘Blast my sex!’ cries a girl who offers her private yacht, to be told that men alone are eligible. The powers-that-be turn a blind eye in her direction, and suspect that she finds her way to Dunkirk.'</p>
<p>Vera Brittain, from England’s Hour</p>
            </blockquote>





	27th May

Nancy was as close to shore as she could risk. The rough water was fouled with abandoned equipment. There were men waiting in the water almost as far out as the launch, white faced men who had lost their weapons. 

As they crossed the Channel she had thought that somehow she would land near John, but of course that was a ridiculous thought. There were hundreds of thousands of men crowded onto this grey strip of beach, with no pattern or order. 

She shouted ‘Twenty.’ Her voice was inaudible against the artillery roar, heavy guns firing in the distance. She raised her hand and flashed her fingers four times. 

The men were approaching like a wave, and she reached for the rope ladder to help them over the side. 

A shell burst nearby and the launch rocked wildly. Roger ran up from the bow, nearly knocked her over now he was grown so big, and together they let down the ladder. Roger lent over, almost to the waterline to help up the wounded. Nancy took a firm hold of his trousers. She couldn’t lose him too. 

The first of the soldiers hauled himself on board. He was with the 8th Territorial, not John’s regiment. A screaming shell burst even closer, and Nancy grabbed his arm. ‘Hold onto Roger,’ she shouted directly in his ear. 

She ran to the wheel, and wrestled the launch nose out again. When she looked over, the 8th was helping Roger haul up a wounded man, the grey bandage on his leg leaking blood. 

They took on twenty, then two more. Roger looked over to her, but she shook her head. The launch was already overladen, she could not take more without risking the ones they had. And Roger would not have looked for permission if it had been John waiting.

She headed out to open waters, zig zagging around the debris. The launch was answering badly but they were moving slowly clear of the bloody beach. Roger signalled a mine-free path ahead. She put her shoulder behind the wheel, and headed back to Blighty, where mother and Peg would be waiting at the docks with coffee. 

She looked at her deck. The men were cold, wet, wounded, tightly packed and some were sea sick. To her surprise, one of them smiled and pointed at something above her shoulder. 

It was the flag, of course. 

She gave him a thumbs up. ‘Yes, you’ve been kidnapped by pirates,’ she called.

**Author's Note:**

> The timing is not quite right, as by May/June 1940 I would imagine Nancy would already be a WREN. Perhaps she was on leave?
> 
> However, there were some women at least at Dunkirk. Stewardess Amy Goodrich refused to leave her ship and was later awarded a Dunkirk decoration.
> 
> For a vivid description of Dunkirk, try David Divine, Miracle at Dunkirk - ‘The picture will always remain sharp etched in my memory – the lines of men wearily and sleepily staggering across the beach from the dunes to the shallows, falling into little boats, great columns of men thrust out into the water among bomb and shell splashes. The foremost ranks were shoulder deep, moving forward under the command of young subalterns, themselves with their heads just above the little waves that rode in to the sand. As the front ranks were dragged aboard the boats, the rear ranks moved up, from ankle deep to knee deep, from knee deep to waist deep, until they, too, came to shoulder depth and their turn.’


End file.
